A few weeks ago, I took my 8 year old grandson skating. When we neared the outdoor rink, there was a large crowd gathered and music was playing. It was the Christmas tree lighting celebration. As we proceeded to the rink, my grandson saw flashing lights and stopped. I asked him “What’s wrong??” He said there were police and he was afraid. He is black and although he attends a Grosse Pointe school, (Grosse Pointe is predominantly white but the school is predominantly black) he has a fear of police based on the news and reaction of police shootings of unarmed black youths. This caused me to think back upon my experiences and attitudes toward police.
My earliest remembrance of police was from my father’s bar. He owned a bar on the border of Hamtramck and Detroit. Friday’s were paydays and the busiest day of the week. Both my father and mother worked at the bar on Fridays. Despite what many people think, all business owners are not rolling in money. Not affording a baby sitter, they took me to the bar. I would help out until I was too sleepy whereupon I would make a bed from the empty beer cases and fall asleep. Of course, for an 8 year old to tend bar my father could have lost his liquor license. So I learned to spot police as they entered and would hide. I also remember that he was obligated (if you did not want harassment and wanted quick response in the event of trouble, and show appreciation for the law) to provide Christmas Eve free buffet to the police officers. I remember a man lying on the sidewalk in at the front door. People passed him by muttering about a drunk. Turned out someone finally stopped to help him up and discovered he had had a stroke and was not drunk. We tend to make assumptions it is easier than investigating for the truth.
I remember great uncle-in-law Chester getting out of jail. He was affiliated with members of the Purple gang. I remember him telling how he was pardoned after finding civic duty and donating to the outgoing southern governor. A few years later he was back in jail for hiring Fleishman (an old purple gang acquaintance) to torch competition to Chester’s business. When after years of postponements, he finally came to trial and was convicted. He arranged to come home nights as nights in jail were a hardship on my great aunt. Not only does might make right but apparently so does money.
My next recollection was around age 11-13 when I was shoveling snow. Back then no one in the area had a snow blower. So I went door to door shoveling snow for a dollar or two. Well I was diligently shoveling when a green Cadillac car stopped and an elderly gentleman got out and approached me. He identified himself as a retired police officer from Grosse Pointe Park. He proceeded to chastise me for throwing snowballs at his car. I did not do it! He informed me how dangerous it was and that I could have caused an accident. I told him I did no such thing. I was too busy trying to make a buck. The street we were on faced an approximately eight foot bank topped by a chain link fence that separated the street from the canal behind the fence. Kids on the other side of the fence had walked across the ice and were throwing snowballs at me earlier. I told the retired policeman, that they were probably the ones who hit his car with snowballs. Look at the direction of the snow trail and point of impact. He would have none of that, and insisted that he saw me do it. He grilled me for at least a half-hour. I was freezing with the lack of activity and lamenting my lost opportunity to shovel more walks before dark. The more logic I tried to apply, the angrier he got. He threated to arrest me. That scared the hell out of me at that age. Finally, I confessed to the crime, a false confession. Satisfied he had gotten his perp, he gave me another lecture and muttered something about Detroit hooligans as he returned to his car and left. I have questioned this event throughout my life. How could I be so weak as to confess? I should have confessed earlier and made more money? How could I not know I would not be jailed for that?
When I was 17, a friend of the family was civic minded and supported the mayor. So when my mother went shopping, she would call the friend who would arrange for a police car to pick her up and drop her off at the shopping store. When she had her fill of shopping, she would call for a return trip. I always felt negatively about this.
Also when I was 17 I had a unique experience with a policeman that could have ended horribly for both of us. By then my father had sold the bar. My mother decided to go into the bridal business and opened a bridal shop (Should I say “shoppe“- it sounds much fancier). Anyhow, my father stored his outboard boat engine in the basement of my mother’s store. One night when I borrowed my father’s car, he loaned it to me on the condition I pick up the outboard motor from the basement and bring it home when I returned the car. So my friend Jim and I went to the store which was on a busy street. We decided to park in the alley because it was closer to the basement stairs and we would not have to worry about people on the street wondering why we going in the bridal shop at night. We opened the back door and went to the basement. It was then we heard some noise coming from the floor above us. I immediately thought someone saw the open back door and was going to rob us. I looked around for a weapon. I found a pair of scissors. Scissors in hand, bravely I decided to capture the robber. I slowly crept up the stairs. At the top of the stairs I hid behind the wall until I heard the intruder nearby. I jumped out with scissors in hand shouting “AHAH!” To my surprise, the “intruder” was a policeman with gun drawn. I was extremely lucky he did not shoot. I credit him for his sound decision not to shoot and his decision to investigate. I was so shook up that I gave incoherent answers to our reason for being there. Luckily Jim had the presence of mind to explain the whole story. Looking back, I wonder what would have happened had I been black.
In my 20’s we had a bachelor party for a friend. Back then, you showed X-rated movies instead of live entertainers. Porn movies were illegal. So one of the guys got some from the police evidence room with the obligation we were to return them the morning after the party. I guess it is ok for the good guys to watch porn but not those other guys.
Later, when I commanded a criminal investigation detachment in the Army, and also served with many civilian police in a military police unit, I noticed that many, but not all, policemen were like the elderly retired officer that got me to confess to throwing a snowball when I did not. Justice is blind in more ways than one. Once we were stationed next to a unit from Chicago. My troops were already to investigate and arrest those hoods from Chicago as soon as they would inevitably commit a crime. None happened though.
So, I told my grandson to be cautious. There are good and bad police, just as there are good and bad doctors, lawyers, politicians, preachers, etc. Believe in what people do over what they say. It is much easier to jump to conclusions and rely on prejudice than to think for yourself. If someone tells you something, do not take it as truth, nor as false, think for yourself. Don’t be a puppet and let others pull your strings. Don’t be a prisoner either and think you are trapped and everyone is against you. Be a player and understand the system and use it but not abuse it.